


Brother, why are you so mean?

by Elica



Series: Building A Family [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, kind of, stiles and jackson are brothers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 03:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2254554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elica/pseuds/Elica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles tries to adapt to his new family. It's easy and not easy. It's just life.<br/>And Jackson may be more attached than he let it show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brother, why are you so mean?

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is written in the same time as Notebooks.  
> The two stories can be read separately but I think it's better to read them together :)
> 
> Unbetaed, as always.

Life at the Whittemores’ was not a Paradise, even if everybody thought so. Stiles had cool clothes, could afford new books every year, had complete meals for lunch and a bike every other boys were jealous of. Stiles liked that. He didn’t have to stress over money, though, in the first months, he couldn’t help but feel… guilty? Then Jackson took him by the head – and it hurt – and explained him, man to man, that he shouldn’t feel guilty for something they did with joy and without hesitation.

So material life was easy. Family life… not so much.

The good thing was: the Whittemores never tried to replace his parents.

Stiles was still Stiles Stilinski, not Genim Whittemore. Anny didn’t give him hugs or teach him how to cook, but they had long conversations about literature. Mr Whittemore had no idea how a car worked, but he took Stiles and Jackson to surf, hike or sky on his rare vacations. They were different.

They weren’t crafting to prepare Christmas or Halloween or Stiles’ birthday. The Whittemores didn’t take breakfast in front of TV on Sundays’ mornings. Mr Whittemore didn’t watch baseball and Anny didn’t… well, she didn’t hug and cuddle.

The first year, Stiles tried to adapt. He had school and Scott, and soon enough Erica, Isaac’s sister. They were in the same class and quickly became an infernal trio. Plus Stiles was actually good at school. Anny was aware of his ADHD and never missed one day of medication. She even enrolled him in her taichi lessons so he could learn to concentrate even more. By consequence, Stiles could work really great in school and soon became one of the best students of the school. He was still a little strange and a loner, except for Scott and Erica, but it was good.

He preferred staying in the school library in the afternoon than going back home though.

Because he found it cold and unnerving. The house was too big, too wide, too white, too silent. Anny was usually working in her office, Jackson at his Lacrosse training and Mr Whittemore at his company. There was two cookies and a glass of milk on the counter, and a password for the computer in Jackson’s room so Stiles could check his mail. The computer would shut down after one hour and the sites he visited were strictly supervised. Then Stiles would do his homework and be able to watch TV. Twice a week, he would go to a softball training and a soccer training. On Saturday mornings, there was taichi and a vegan restaurant where Anny would eat with her friends and Stiles came along.

It was so different from his life at the foster house, or when he still had his dad and mum.

He didn’t talk about it to the others, because he didn’t want to worry them. They all had so much to deal with. Derek didn’t like New York that much and hated school; Isaac had sometimes hard time to adapt to his girls’ only family – one mother, one sister, two cousin, one aunt and just one dad; and Lydia was lonely, traveling with her mum from one country to another. He shouldn’t feel bad when his friends were in worst situations than him – well, perhaps not Isaac, but he knew the empty eyes the boy had from time to time weren’t anything good.

For three long months, Stiles bear with it.

And then Scott caught a pneumonia.

Something broke in Stiles. He didn’t want to worry his new family, so he didn’t tell them his best friends was so sick he was at the hospital. He looked up on the internet what a pneumonia really was and made himself panic when he saw that you could die of it.

When Jackson walked into his brother’s room this night, to tell him the dinner was ready, he found Stiles curled on his bed, his sheets wet by tears.

“What the fuck? What are you doing, stupid head?”

“Go away.”

His words were muffled by the sheets but Jackson wouldn’t let go.

“Hey, shithead, are you a girl to cry like this? What happened?”

“Go. Away!”

Stiles sat up, sending a pillow on Jackson’s head. Now he could see the red eyes and nose, the wet shirt and the general despair of Stiles’.

“What happened?”

“Scott’s DEAD!”

This, this sent Jackson in motion. He took Stiles under his arm, brought him to the bathroom, while asking his mom to come upstairs. Then he made Stiles wash himself, put him in pjs and wouldn’t let him go, even when Stiles bit him.

Anny then called Melissa, asking if something happened and they all knew then that Scott was not dead, wouldn’t die even, and was having a bad case of pneumonia that left him weak and he had to be under constant watching. Thus the hospital stay.

“Why did you think Scott would die, Stiles?” asked Anny this evening, petting her son’s hair. She would never do that and here, Stiles thought it was good. He was tired and found that his pjs, the new sheets, his teddy bear even, and Anny, all were so comfy and made him want to sleep.

“I read on the internet: you can die of pneumonia.”

“That doesn’t mean your friend will die. His mum is a nurse and he has been watched for years now. He’ll do good.”

“He’s going to have Christmas at the hospital. It’s unfair.”

“Life is not fair, Stiles. But still, we can go see him tomorrow if you want. I called school to tell them you’ll be sick.”

This night, Stiles wet his bed again, for the first time in months. He tried to hide this, and followed Anny to the hospital, where he did a second panic attack. And a third one when, back home, Jackson asked why there were sheets again in the laundry room.

This night, Anny asked herself if they did good by adopting Stiles. She talked a long time with his foster family by phone, and, the next day, had a lunch with Melissa McCall. She needed to understand that Stiles wasn’t like Jackson: he wasn’t a baby they could take as their own child. He had a life before them. He had a good mother and was the Sheriff’s son. He hadn’t needed so much stuff except love and attention. And he needed now even more of these, since life took away from him so much.

Anny let Stiles have Christmas with Scott and let him chose the decorations for the tree. The result was a kitchen where you could see glitter on the table even days after, and a Christmas’ tree that could give a heart attack to any designer. Even Mr Whittemore was a little disturbed by it.

 

***

 

The first Christmas’ morning Stiles passed by the Whittemores, the second since his dad died, the boy didn’t know what to expect.

He had gone to the mall with Jackson to buy presents for their parents and convinced his brother they should do handmade cards. Jackson didn’t agree, but he still put a word on the ones Stiles did on his own. The prick. Stiles was convinced Jackson was too afraid of glue but wouldn’t admit it.

What Stiles did expect on this morning was an elaborate brunch and he had it. They had French crêpes with fruits’ jams, tea – and not the one you bought in the supermarket –, fresh orange juice, French toast, honey and croissants. Stiles had never ever eaten croissant. It was marvelous.

What he didn’t expect was to find Mr Whittemore in pjs and Anny in loose pants and too big tee-shirt, Jackson with a bed head and unmatched socks, and a ton of presents under the tree. Well, a ton: more than quite a few and more than he had ever had.

He had a scarf, from Lydia, along with a book on writing exercises she found in London. Isaac gave him a photo of mountains he took himself, in a pretty frame. Scott and Melissa had already given him three tickets to go to the movies with Scott. He had a card from Derek, from New York Christmas Tree and a little sketch of a bedroom – Derek’s bedroom he supposed.

Jackson offered him a Lacrosse jersey, because he thought that Stiles should begin to practice, even if he already had soccer and softball. Anny offered him two frames, some beautiful, shiny ones, with a photo of his mum and dad. Stiles could just give her a shy smile to thank her.

Mr Whittemore had bought him a computer.

Not a powerful one and he knew he would have a parents’ protection on it. And a very limited internet time. He wasn’t allowed to have games on it either, since he could play with his Playstation. But:

“I downloaded the complete office, so you’ll have a good writing program. I’ll install my printer on it and I have a stock of papers for you too. I’m waiting for your first short texts by New Year, of course.”

 

Life was not a Paradise and life by the Whittemores was not perfect.

But that was not what Stiles wanted.

He wanted people who could understand him, and the Whittemores did just that.


End file.
